Dreamy Places
When I was a girl we lived near railroad tracks,
at night I loved the sound of the train whistle blowing;
it was such a haunting, lonely sound,
and I wondered where it was going.
Oh. how I longed to hop on that train and go places.,
I would sit by the window and imagine I was on the train;
the huge diesel locomotive pulling us,
I would have dreams of Paris.
It was whimsical and fanciful there with the Eiffel Tower,
and Notre Dame and the Louvre, then a quick stop in Vienna;
home of Mozart and Beethoven, and many others,
all these places I visited on a whistling train.
And then, we would sway along to Rome with a clung,
I wanted to say hello to the Pope- we went to England;
and I introduced myself to the Queen,
soon, we would be chatting over tea.
In my reverie I was not alone, never ever alone,
for I had brought along my sweet little Odele;
she was a kitten tucked in my pocket,
now, off we go on my train . . .
to some dreamy places . . . .
_________________________________
October 28, 2019 (Re-write from 2015)
Poetry/Narrative/Dreamy Places
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1191-939-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to FTI Blog Series 11 - places
Brian Strand
Podium Place 1
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